the universe was made (just to be seen by my eyes)
by cyclothimic
Summary: There was a part of the Smithsonian dedicated to him. Howard Stark's son became one of his best friends. He looked like he was thirty when he was really ninety-one. A super soldier wasn't one of the biggest wonders in the world anymore. / He lost Peggy.


**Steve and Peggy, god they're like the most tragic otp in my list of otps. i love them and hate them at the same time. as Cookie Lyon would so eloquently put it, it's torture.**

 **this fic is in the same verse as _i'll use you as a warning sign._ i figured since natasha and bucky have a happy ending. steve and peggy deserve one too.**

 **anyhow, read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

 _You taught me the courage of stars before you left._

 _How light carries on endlessly, even after death._

 _With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite._

 _How rare and beautiful it is to even exist._

 _-Saturn, Sleeping At Last_

* * *

She told him the war was over. She told him they could go home. She was so ready for them to finally have the dance that he'd promised her. He wanted to tell her that he was ready too; he'd been ready for seventy years.

It was all a dream though; his hallucinations. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful to Wanda or be pissed at her for making him feel like that for even just a mere four minutes (like he hadn't lose time, like he felt hopeless with each passing second, like there wasn't any light in the world anymore, like he was _home_.)

He'd regained consciousness for four – almost five – years. He could still remember the urge he felt to tumble into her arms and kiss her and ask her to an official dance. He still felt that urge sometimes. God, the numerous ways he'd invented on telling her he loved her and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, all gone to waste because Red Skull decided it was fun to annihilate freedom.

The first scenario: he would accidentally step on her feet countless times and she would brush it off with a helpless laugh each time. And then when he finally got a handle of it and he dipped her, he'd tell her.

The second scenario: he still couldn't dance at the end of the night. Guess he just had two left feet. As he walked her home, they'd talk about the most ridiculous of things. Until they reached her home and he'd be awkward, but he would tell her anyway because he couldn't wait any longer.

The third scenario: he won. They won. They were celebrating at the square. And then he would just grab her and kiss her because he _could_. And he'd whisper it against her lips.

There were more. There were a million more. He could imagine so many possibilities and endings. He had dreamed of them all. He had yearned and cried for them all.

He missed her so terribly.

* * *

"Have you ever felt guilty?" Bucky asked one time when they were lounging on the balcony of his floor, drinking Budlight despite the fact that they couldn't get drunk.

His best friend, who'd mostly recovered and finally found a good thing with Natasha, came looking for him, claiming that it was time they had a drink with just the two of them. He'd teased the man about the woman he had to go home to, to which Bucky only smirked and said that Natasha had went ahead for a ladies' night out with Pepper, Maria and Helen.

Steve turned to his best friend. "What do you mean?"

Bucky clenched his jaw, dangling the half full can between his metal fingers before downing it and tossing it over the balcony, gaining a look of disapproval from him. "For making her wait so long for you," he finally said quietly.

He looked over to the skyline of New York City, ethereal and lively from so high up here. Other than the buildings and the billboards, not much had changed in New York. The traffic was still terrible; the drivers were still reckless; the criminals were still lurking in the dark; the population was still wild; but things _did_ change though.

There was a part of the Smithsonian dedicated to him. Howard Stark's son became one of his best friends. He looked like he was thirty when he was really ninety-one. A super soldier wasn't one of the biggest wonders in the world anymore.

He lost Peggy.

"All the time," he responded, repeating Bucky's actions, earning a smirk from the man next to him.

He had always wondered how Peggy lived her life during time he was still frozen in water. He wanted to know how Peggy became the founder of SHIELD. He wanted to learn everything and be proud of her. He was curious about the man she'd married and the children she birthed.

He had no one to ask because everyone who knew her was either too dead or too sick.

He couldn't imagine what he had put her through. She had thought he was _dead_ , when really, he was just snoring his head off under water. Did she cry every night? Did she distract herself from him with work? Did she decide that mourning him wasn't going to do anything so she might as well go out there and _do something_?

"She told me I was meant for more," he muttered, hearing her voice saying those exact words in his head. They remained the words that motivate him to get out of bed and live every day. "I don't know if I want to be meant for more without her by my side."

"I don't think she wants you to do that though," Bucky commented. He scoffed humorously with a shake of his head. "I had a dream last night. It was beautiful."

"What was it?"

Bucky was smiling the smile he always had when he was remembering something he liked. He tilted his head. "You and I, back in the day, with the pubs and the jazz and the bourbon. Except there's no war; no Hydra; no KGB; nothing. It's just you and I, seeing Peggy and Natalia for the first time at the Stork Club. You were a bumbling huge dumbass but Peggy loved it. I was charming the pants off Natalia with my amazing dancing skills."

Steve grinned, scoffing at Bucky's shameless vanity. But he could imagine it in his head. He could see their faces clearly in his head, doing the things Bucky was depicting. "If only, right?"

"Honestly, Steve, considering the circumstance, we both are the lucky ones." Bucky then sighed. "Natalia and Peggy, though," he drifted off.

Bucky wasn't wrong. They managed to sleep – or in Bucky's case, forget – the memories they had with their ladies. They didn't have to remember and keel in pain quietly by themselves. But Natalia and Peggy, they had to live through losing their men and to remember every single detail of their lives together, no matter how short.

"We're such screw-ups," Steve said, cracking open another can of Budlight. "I would give anything for her to be by my side."

Bucky hummed. "I guess I lucked out here."

* * *

Contrary to popular belief – thanks to Colonel Phillips – that kiss in the car wasn't their first kiss. Steve would honestly bash his head against the wall if that was their first kiss because he would have wanted more. Still, even now, he still wanted more.

Their first kiss happened on the night she came to the Stork Club, dressed to the nines in a stunning red dress and her lips painted blood red. He bade an early farewell from his newly gathered Howling Commandos, ignoring their guffaws and teases of him chasing after a dame, and rushed out the door, looking for the familiar figure in red.

He turned to his left, his disappointment coming to a halt when he saw her just several yards away. He smiled, laughing a little before running after her in just five strides, reaching her side and tapping her on the shoulder lightly. She turned to him, not showing her surprise. Maybe she _wasn_ ' _t_ even surprised, given how observant and aware she always was.

She stared at him for a short second before asking, "Shouldn't you be with the boys?"

Her accent was music to his ears. "It's dangerous for a woman to be walking out alone in the night," he said, knowing full well that she could take care of herself.

She cocked a brow. "Really?"

His smile widened and he bowed his head a little. "Fine, I just want to walk you home. Besides, I can't get drunk anyway so there's really no fun in that."

She hummed in response with a short nod before looking back ahead. He shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid touching her at any capacity.

He sneaked glances at her every now and then in the twenty minute walk back to her rented apartment. He wondered sometimes, if she really had a thing for him or if she was just doing it for the fun of it. He wished that she was being real because in his case, he couldn't be more smitten. He didn't know why a tough and beautiful woman like her would want to be with him – a chemical product. Even if she was just doing it for the fun of it, he couldn't be more grateful for a friend like her.

When they finally reached her door, he found profound reluctance and displease tangled in his chest. He didn't want it to end. He wanted her presence more. But he knew that they still had the army to go back to tomorrow morning and he couldn't keep her forever.

He stood at the bottom of steps while she stood on top on the threshold. He mustered a cheerful smile and took a hand out to wave at her. "Well, then, I guess I'll take my leave."

"Steve," she stopped him softly.

He stood there, half-turned at her. They stared at each other for a moment, her eyes unreadable. She sighed, rolling her eyes. He had a feeling she was doing it at herself. He watched as she descended the steps until they were face to face, almost chest to chest. He could smell her perfume wafting at him.

Next thing he knew, she was kissing him. After two seconds of being stunned on the spot, he kissed her back. He lifted his hand to gently hold her face, pulling her to him. They kissed each other, soft and slow. She tasted like November, like hot chocolate on stormy winter and crisp autumn air.

Even though this was his first kiss, there was no way any other kiss could trump this – he'd know about that later on.

When they pulled apart, she whispered, "Thank you for walking me back home. It was really sweet."

He was still dazed when she went inside.

* * *

He would just like to reaffirm that he didn't blame Bucky or Natasha. They deserved everything they were having right now. They had both went through more than he would like to experience – he didn't want any of it – and they deserved to be happy.

But he just couldn't help it when he avoided them when they were together. It just reminded him of his missed chances and the woman he'd put in so much pain. Just like this morning, when he actually wanted breakfast but ended up walking into what was obviously meant to be private. He sputtered and apologized and just walked away, pretending he didn't hear Bucky or Natasha calling him.

Steve went down to the gym, instructing Jarvis to keep his whereabouts a secret until he wanted to be found. He retrieved fifteen punching bags, hanging one up on the hook. He wrapped his hands up thick bandages and shed his jacket. He then posed himself and started punching, putting all his strength into it.

He plundered at the bags; each punch carried with it an image of Bucky and Natasha happy. He wasn't angry at them. He was angry at himself. He was disappointed. He _missed_ Peggy so much that it hurt him every day. After the scenarios of Bucky and Natasha ran out, he was already at his ninth bag. Then the possible scenarios he'd come up with for him and Peggy flashed through his head, making him all the angrier.

At his fifteenth bag, he turned around to see Natasha leaning against the brick wall with her arms crossed, clad in a leather jacket. He clenched his jaw, wiping away at the sweat gathering on his forehead and neck, and nodded at her in acknowledgement.

"I'm not going to apologize, even though James wanted to," she voiced coolly. _James and Natalia_ , that's another thing between Bucky and Natasha that they refused to explain to anyone.

He nodded. "I don't expect you to."

"But if you're not comfortable with it, you can tell us, Steve. We understand."

He shook his head. "No, don't. You guys don't have to stop doing anything just because of me."

She stared at him. He was occasionally reminded of Peggy when Natasha stared at him, unreadable and hidden. "I know you miss her."

He scoffed laughably, tilting his head. "Yeah," he responded shortly.

"You wanna spar?" He looked up. She smirked. "You know that I'm a match for you."

She was. He would appreciate the distraction though. So he agreed.

* * *

"What if I told you that Banner and I are halfway on creating our own de-aging serum?" Tony suddenly said one day when the two of them were drinking coffee in the kitchen.

Steve sipped and put his mug down slowly. "I'd say it won't work," he replied. He didn't want to bring his hopes up despite the fact that his heart leaped the first time he heard it.

Tony feigned offense, putting a hand to his chest. Steve smirked. "We wouldn't know until we try, right?" he tested.

Steve lifted his eyes at Tony. "What are you saying?"

The other man raised his brows. "We all can see how much you miss her, more now than ever after the whole fiasco with Scarlet Witch there." Tony pointed a dismissing finger over his shoulder. "It's sad, really. I mean, you mope so much that I think I don't even need a cleaner to mop the floor anyway."

Steve rolled his eyes. "It's not my call," he replied to Tony's unasked question.

"But do you want it to happen?"

"If it's going to hurt her, then I don't want it to happen."

"Oh please, it's me and Banner. Come on! But that's not the point; do _you_ want it to happen?"

Steve looked down at the pitch black liquid in his mug, seeing all the scenarios in his head again. "Yes."

* * *

Life went on.

Bucky and Natasha were pretty much together. He was surprised that Bucky hadn't gone down one knee to propose. But then again, anyone could see that they weren't going to be apart anytime soon.

Tony didn't bring up the de-aging serum and he never asked again. He put the issue so far in the back of his mind that he nearly forgot about it.

They were sent out on missions almost once a week; to take out this or that nutter, to meet up with Coulson and offer inputs on _his_ missions, and a whole lot more of that variety. They were so busy that he barely had time to visit Peggy for a month.

He was just getting ready to head out and go to the home, since he had a rare time off for the day. He pulled on his jacket and made sure his hair was neat before he pressed the button for the elevator. When it dinged, he was ready to enter the small compartment.

Only to stop short at the sight of Bucky standing there.

"Hey," he greeted in surprised, raising his brows. "What are you doing here?"

Bucky was grinning. Like, _grinning_. Steve had never seen him grin like this without Natasha by his side. His best friend was bobbing on the heels of his feet and grinning like a child ready for Christmas.

He frowned. "Bucks, what's going on?"

"There's a surprise downstairs for you."

He licked his lips, frown deepening. "You know I hate surprises."

Bucky rolled his eyes, forcefully pulling him by his forearm into the elevator, rapidly pressing the close button. "You'll love this, I promise."

Steve sighed, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets as he waited for the elevator's descent to the general floor. It dinged again when it stopped and the door slowly slid open. Bucky walked out in hurried strides, waving at Steve to join him. Steve huffed and followed. They descended the stairs to the common area.

Steve was still curious as to what the surprise was until his eyes finally located the woman sitting in one of the armchairs. His feet halted and he nearly lost his balance if not for Bucky pulling him back into balance. He slowly pulled his hands from his pockets, letting them dangle helplessly at his sides.

The woman was sitting with her legs crossed and her hands placed primly on her knee. Her hair was jet black and silky as he remembered – he yearned to touch it. Her skin was free of wrinkles and her smile was enhanced with blood red. Her eyes though, they still caught him like a pair of the warmest arms he could ever run into.

In the flesh, young and beautiful again – not that she was ever _not_ beautiful – " _Peggy_."

She slowly stood up. " _Hello, Steve._ "

* * *

 **yes, there will be a follow up.**


End file.
